


Christmas Spirit

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [99]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone overdid it at the Summers’ Christmas dinner</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published December 22, 2004
> 
> This was written for Mydeira for the drunk!Giles ficathon. No surprise then that it is set in the [Ménageaverse](http://archiveofourown.org/series/15267) Apocrypha. Set generally after Man Handle in that series, during Season 5 in the vague vicinity of the episode Triangle. The song Giles is ~~mangling~~ singing is Ding Dong Merrily on High.

“Glo-oooo-o-oooo-o-oooo-oria,  
Hosanna in excelsis!”

The words felt good coming out of his throat, so Giles sang through another chorus.  
“Glo-oooo-o-oooo-o-oooo-oria,  
Hosanna in excelsis!”

“You’re off key, you know,” Ethan’s voice came from somewhere near Giles’ shoulder. He turned bleary eyes in that general direction to find his arm around Ethan’s neck as the other man supported him. Wasn’t sure why, he felt fine. But it was pretty damn thoughtful anyway.

“Am not,” he protested petulantly. “You are.”

“I’m not singing, Rupert.”

He thought about that. “Huh.”

Ethan chuckled. “You really are pie-faced, aren’t you?”

“Pfft. Can’t be. Only had a couple of egg nogs.” He stumbled down the steps, catching himself on Ethan and the railing.

“You had six at least. Not counting the wine at dinner. Did you see how much rum Joyce put in that punch bowl?”

“Not drunk,” Giles insisted. “Just tired. Too much Christmas spirit.” He felt another wave of enthusiasm sweep over him, so he thundered out another basso profundo chorus.

“Christmas spirit indeed.” Ethan leaned him up against the doorframe before fishing around in Giles’ pocket for the apartment keys. “Good thing the youngsters left early. What would your girl say to see you so snockered.”

“Mmm, Joyce.” He tipped his head back, remembering how sweet she had looked tonight in all the candlelight.

“Not our girl. Your girl. The Slayer.”

“Pfft.” He stumbled over the doorsill and down the landing after Ethan pushed the door open. “Seen me drunk before. This is nothin’.”

Ethan followed him, closing the door behind them. “Were you really that nervous?”

The good mood faded, and Giles looked at Ethan with lost eyes.

“It was just Christmas dinner with the children, Ripper, not an orgy. They are fine with all of this. Except the Slayer of course, but she’s not about to say anything in front of her mum now, is she?”

Giles just stared at him. “’m not drunk,” he finally protested yet again.

“If you say so.”

He stared some more.

“Glo-oooo . . .”

“Right.” Ethan took his arm again. “Bed for you.”

They staggered and stumbled their way up the stairs to the loft, where Ethan dumped Giles unceremoniously on the bed.

“You never used to be such a lightweight, Ripper,” Ethan said, slipping Giles’ shoes off. “Been drinking too much of that piss water American beer.”

“You never used to care.” He wiggled his toes, showing he was referring to the attention, not the beer.

“Yeah, well, I was usually as lit as you were.”

“Yeah.” He looked at Ethan, bleary eyes puzzled. “If I’m drunk, why aren’t you?”

“Because I was more interested in backing Joyce into a corner.”

Giles snorted. “You would.” He grew thoughtful. “I didn’t get to kiss her all night.”

“Like I said, you were too busy drowning your nerves.”

“You did.”

Ethan smiled. “I usually get what I want.”

Giles studied Ethan’s mouth for a long moment. Then he leaned forward, catching Ethan’s mouth with his own. Ethan responded, opening his mouth to Giles’ exploration. Giles could taste subtle hints of Joyce’s lipstick as his tongue swept over Ethan’s lips before delving inside. It was slow and languid, almost more relaxing than arousing, and he found himself falling back on the mattress, Ethan following him down.

It was hard to concentrate as a warm lethargy blanketed him, aided by the warmth of Ethan’s body covering his. Finally he surrendered to it, disappearing into the darkness he couldn’t resist.

“Ripper?” he heard faintly as consciousness faded. “Rupert, don’t you dare . . . Oh, bloody hell.” Warm lips touched his forehead. “Good night, Prince Charming.”

He smiled peacefully and let sleep claim him.


End file.
